


ways of coping with loss

by Anonymous



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I’m sorry, I’m just going through- ”“Shh,” Andres shushes him, gently, leaning in to speak over his ear. “I’m going through something too. But I’m thinking we can go through this without any unnecessary talk, hm? Besides, if I want your mouth it won’t be for talking but for putting my dick in. Though I’d much rather have your ass for that.”
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Anonymous





	ways of coping with loss

Andres looks at the guy, with his stupid nerd glasses and his stupid shirt that was a size too big and his stupid tie that was... just painful. Except under all of that, he’s actually quite handsome. And he’s clever, too, Andres hasn’t had so much fun trying to pick someone up since...

Well, maybe it’s not the time to think about that right now. He takes the guy’s hand, leading him through the dancefloor, past the colorful bar and right to the bathrooms. Not the classiest of moves, but he’s not in the mood to be classy, he’s in the mood to get off. 

The guy catches on slowly, he makes a move to stop right before Andres opens the bathroom door, but the hesitation lasts only for a second. When they walk in, he’s shocked and pleased to see that it’s magically empty, so he drags the guy into the last stall and closes the door behind him.

What an awful color scheme. Not the bathroom, the bathroom was clean and overall, rather nice. No, the light blue shirt paired with the green tie that the guy was wearing, and those slacks that somehow made him look shorter than he was. An awful sense of style wrapped around a subtly fit body - all the more reason for Andres to get him out of those ugly clothes. 

The bit of talking they’ve done before the music got too loud was interesting, true, but for now it had to be enough. The guy stares at him from under his glasses and doesn’t object when Andres's hands loosen his tie a bit, then pulls it sharply, making him stumble right into Andres's arms. 

“Oh!”

“Do you want this?” Andres is pretty sure he does, he knows that look, he’s gotten it many times before, from men and women alike. He knows when he’s wanted, and right now, he is.

The guy opens his mouth, looking for words. He sounds almost apologetic when he speaks.

“I’m sorry, I’m just going through- ”

“Shh,” Andres shushes him, gently, leaning in to speak over his ear. “I’m going through something too. But I’m thinking we can go through this without any unnecessary talk, hm? Besides, if I want your mouth it won’t be for talking but for putting my dick in. Though I’d much rather have your ass for that.”

He hasn’t done this in a while, talked to strangers like this, but he still manages to do it like it comes naturally to him. It has the same effect it always did - the guy flushes and lowers his eyes, and he feels tense. 

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” he says, in a small voice. Andres believes it.

“There’s always a first time. You owe me an answer - do you want this or not?”

The guy nods, looking away, and jumps when Andres lifts his chin with a finger to force eye contact. “Yes,” he says, looking up. 

Andres tilts his head and the guy seems to read his body language because he’s leaning over until their lips meet. He still doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, they grab onto Andres's waist, then his arms, then roam his chest until he seems to build up enough courage to slip lower. Andres moans, letting go of the man’s face to work on opening his pants, and as soon as he gets the zipper low enough, a hand slips inside his underwear. He’s gotten hard just from the kissing and those roaming hands, and the needy noises the other guy keeps making.

Kissing soon takes too much focus, and Andres lets his head fall back against the door, enjoying the fingers squeezing his cock just the way he likes it. The man is just starting to pick his pace and Andres thinks that maybe he should reciprocate and has his hands on the belt around the guy’s pants when the door to the bathroom opens, and the music from outside fills the room before the door closes again. There’s the sound of footsteps, and both of them freeze, holding their breaths. Andres's cock twitches in the other man’s hand, which earns him a quizzical look.

After the sound of water running, the door opens and closes again, and the room seems to be quiet and empty again. The hand on Andres's cock resumes its motions, and Andres has to stop himself from making any noise. He puts his hand on the guy’s wrist, getting him to stop.

“Let’s go to my hotel room.”

The guy isn’t letting go of Andres's cock, his hand is still inside his pants, and their bodies are pressed so closely they can almost feel each other’s heartbeats.

“This is- Umm. this is all new. All of this. I don't-”

“Well then I'm not going to take your innocence in the bathroom of some bar. All the more reason to go to my hotel room.”

“Okay,” he says, a little breathless, and finally lets go of Andres's cock.

They walk out of there together, and while they get a couple of looks, no one says anything. Andres pays for the cab to his hotel, and they spend the ride in a tense silence. When they finally get inside, Andres pulls the guy’s hand, just like he did in the bar, and leads him to the bathroom. 

The guy looks at him with a confused sort of apprehension, until Andres starts taking off his clothes, and he follows suit. There’s enough room in the shower for the both of them, and at first the guy angles away, as if ashamed, and starts soaping himself looking almost defensive. 

It was almost endearing to see a man so handsome be so shy, Andres couldn’t stop from getting closer and starting to lend a hand with washing. He’s not aiming for efficiency, more like exploration. They end up pressed together, kissing under the rush of droplets, until Andres has the man pressed face-first into the glass shower wall, with his chest pressed to his back. 

He slips his hands around the man’s hips until he grabs hold of his erection. It’s a nice looking cock, thinner than his own but it fits in his palm so well, swelling slightly towards the head. He’s going to get his mouth on it by the time the night is through, but before that, he gets an idea. His other hand slips between their bodies, right over the swell of the guy’s ass, then lower, teasing at the fuzzy area just behind his sack. The guy’s cock jumps in his hand, and this makes Andres bolder, letting two of his fingers travel up along his crack - the guy tenses, holding his breath.

“Relax,” Andres whispers into his neck, and when he can feel him exhale against his chest, he lets two of his fingers dip deeper. He runs his fingers over the guy’s entrance, teasingly, with a light touch, but it makes him choke and gasp and tense all over again. “Just relax. Turn over.” 

They were as clean as they were going to get, so Andres turns off the shower while the guy manages to arrange himself so he’d rest his back against the glass wall. He looks flushed and halfway ready to come, judging by the angry-red of his erection standing against his abdomen. 

What a beautiful man, Andres thinks, even as he slowly settles on his knees in front of him. That was indeed a nice cock, and he had a body that was wasted hidden under those clothes. But Andres was there to appreciate him, so he does. 

The guy nearly yells when Andres licks a hot line from the root of his cock all the way to the tip, wrapping his hand around it to bring it closer to his mouth before closing his lips around it. As soon as he starts moving his head and taking him deeper, the guy’s legs begin to shake and Andres draws back, grabbing the base of his cock.

“Do you want to come now, or when I fuck you?”

“Umm, the second one.”

“When I fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“If you can’t say it, then probably you shouldn’t do it; it’s a good rule in life.”

“Fine, I want to come... when you fuck me,” his voice becomes quieter at the end of the sentence, and his knees buckle when Andres lets go of the grip around his cock. 

“Good. Bedroom.”

He’s bought the lube from the airport pharmacy, and it was really good lube, it seems. The guy is writhing on the bed, cursing under his breath while Andres fingers him open. He’s bought the lube in the airport because he planned to do this. Control slipped out of his hands a while ago and everything stumbled along with it, so if this is how he managed to get some semblance of control back, and as cliched as it was, Andres was going to do it.

After all, Martin was no doubt doing the same thing too, wherever he was.

They’d broken up less than a month ago, and just as Andres felt like he was maybe beginning to heal and get his life moving again, he got that call from his lawyer and the rest of his house of cards came crumbling down. 

But he won’t be thinking of that now, not with this gorgeous guy in his bed, looking bashful, desperate, and painfully aroused. He tries to not think of the times when he had Martin like that - just like that, mewling against the tangled sheets while Andres pumped his fingers inside him, who had never been so shy when exposed like that, but who’s shared the same drunk with lust look that this guy was showing Andres. 

He’s never taken it easy with Martin, he wouldn’t let him. They hardly ever made love, they fucked; even when it was filled with passion and emotion it was still a fervent rush to the finish line. So now Andres allows himself to be gentle, carefully pressing the head of his cock until it slips inside, checking for any discomfort, listening for any sounds. When he is sure that the guy is okay, he really starts moving, withdrawing just a little before moving to longer, deeper thrusts. 

The guy has his eyes opened and looks right through Andres, with his mouth open only to let out the moans that are pushed out of him by Andres's cock. It’s intimate, even for an anonymous one night stand, but it’s not the same. It couldn’t be the same.

Andres fucks him slow but deep, trying not to think of all the times he’s heard the same sounds, but coming from Martin’s mouth. He buries his head in the guy’s neck, hiding his face because he’s sure his anger is obvious; he feels it bubbling and he tries to keep his motions gentle but he can’t. This is a faceless fuck, just the thing he needs to get it out of his system, this poison he feels inside him, rising, making him grab the guy’s hips to hold him steady, to bring him closer as he buries himself to the hilt every time. 

It’s an uncomfortable position for the guy, but he manages to squeeze a hand between their bodies and to start tugging at his cock. Andres can feel his hole clench with the beginning of his orgasm, almost as soon as he touches himself, and looks down in time to see the long streaks of come paint his abdomen, some catching in Andres's chest hair. It’s all he needs before he moves to his knees, pumping faster, starting to come before the last spurts of come land on their chests.

Right as he’s coming, he thinks of one word and one word alone, but he swallows it with a hiccup because he can’t cry, he won’t, and he won’t say Martin’s name when he comes - or ever again.

Andres doesn’t necessarily want the guy to spend the night, but his awkwardness resumed after his climax, and he covered himself, getting under the covers. He doesn’t mind the warm body by his side while he falls asleep, so he doesn’t throw him out.

“Umm,” the guy starts, then clears his voice. “You haven't even told me your name.”

“Does it really matter? Do you care?”

“...yes?”

“Fine, if it's so important to you, you can call me... Adam.” He didn't mean to get biblical but if he was the first man for him, he might as well go with Adam.

“Is that your real name?”

“No.”

“Oh. I'm- “

“No, no names. I don't care, I'll be out of town in a couple of days anyway. I'll call you… David. Like Michelangelo's statue. Except you wave a way nicer cock.”

David flushes and settles on the pillow, closing his eyes with a smile painted on his face.

David must have slipped out in the middle of the night, Andres realizes when he wakes up. Nothing seems to be missing from his room so he takes a look at his watch, then begins to get ready. He takes a thorough shower and a shave, then he retrieves his cleaned and pressed black suit and dresses slowly, almost absent. 

He doesn’t feel any better even after the previous night, and now it seems almost strange that he thought it would change anything.

He can’t change any of it. He can’t change losing Martin, he can’t change losing his father. He can’t change the fact that he cares about Martin more than he does about the funeral he’s going to, and that should make him feel like a bad person, but it doesn’t.

His father left him and his mother when he was just a child. He’s never attempted to contact them again, and Andres learned quickly not to insist when he clearly wasn’t wanted. Both with Martin and his father, or his father’s new family.

He only decided to attend because his lawyer insisted that he was there at least for the reading of the will. Andres doesn’t care about the will, doesn’t want his father’s money, but if he needs to be there for the will, he might as well show up for the funeral too. There’s a good chance no one there knows him after all, so before they get in front of a lawyer he can be anonymous.

When he gets to the cemetery, with a tasteful bouquet in his arms, the small crowd of people had scattered. There is just one man standing by the new plot, with his hands buried in his pockets and his shoulders drawn. He is crying, Andres realizes when he gets closer, but it’s too late to turn around and give him the decency to mourn in private. The man hears his footsteps and turns around, with tears streaming from under his big, nerdy glasses. 

“David?”

“Sergio.”

**Author's Note:**

> Accidentally 🎶in-cest🎶!


End file.
